


Eden Farm

by BastardCrowley



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Domesticity, Fluff, Hopefully not too OOC, M/M, Other, Sort Of, Stardew Valley AU, after the apocalypse, being gay is hard, clumsy aziraphale, farm life, farming, farming au, gay farming, just straight up murder me pls im tired of living, kinda slow burn, more tags later i guess, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-07-31 10:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20113804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastardCrowley/pseuds/BastardCrowley
Summary: After all the shenanigans with the Apocalypse and whatnot, Aziraphale and Crowley decide to try living on a farm in the countryside, in a place called Stardew Valley. Pelican Town is quaint, and quiet, or so it seems.They were currently speeding along some unnamed back road in the middle of nowhere, heading towards their new endeavour; a farm, Eden Farm, they’d decided to call it. It was a lovely place; nice views, not too close to town, but close enough for convenience. The valley was apparently known for it's diversity of weather, but mostly the brilliant quality of light that they seemed to have. There were rumours that crops grew faster in Stardew Valley, and that any vegetable grown there would be the tastiest one you’d ever have. It was all very domestic and sickly sweet.(It's a sort-of-Stardew-Valley-AU, also known as an excuse for me to fuse Gomens and Stardew together.)





	1. A Fresh Start

**Author's Note:**

> It's kinda short, but I'm a little burnt out D:   
Enjoy a little sneak peak at the start of their farming adventures?
> 
> Sorry if I sound repetitive, yikes.

The Bentley was trying it's best with the rough country roads, it really was, but still it wasn't fast or smooth enough for Crowley. They were currently speeding along some unnamed back road in the middle of nowhere, heading towards their new endeavour; a farm, Eden Farm, they’d decided to call it. It was a lovely place; nice views, not too close to town, but close enough for convenience. The valley was apparently known for it's diversity of weather, but mostly the brilliant quality of light that they seemed to have. There were rumours that crops grew faster in Stardew Valley, and that any vegetable grown there would be the tastiest one you’d ever have. It was all very domestic and sickly sweet.

Crowley gripped the steering wheel tightly, his teeth gritted in frustration.

"I knew we should have taken that turning off the motorway." Crowley grumbled. "These so-called,” Crowley wiggled his head and pulled a face, “roads will ruin the bottom of the car, like a knife through _butter_." He spat.

"_Really_, Crowley," Aziraphale rolled his eyes, "you're being awfully dramatic. The roads aren't that bad." He was panicking inside at how recklessly Crowley was driving, but it wouldn’t do to upset the demon further.

Just at that moment, the road dipped, rocks were sent flying like panicked birds, and Crowley hurriedly tried to regain control of the Bentley. The look that Crowley sent to Aziraphale was one of reluctant smugness; an ‘I told you so, but I'm not happy about being right' kind of look, before focusing back on the road. Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something.

“Don’t.” Crowley shot a glance at Aziraphale, who had his eyebrows raised.

“Alright, alright, my lips are sealed.” Aziraphale said, miming zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. It earned an eye roll from Crowley.

It was around five in the afternoon when the Bentley started the trek through the woods. It was a lot darker, and a little livelier now, with birds chirping and squirrels dashing about between the large trees. They bumbled through the woods at a much slower pace, both Crowley and Aziraphale enjoying the cover of the leaves overhead, and the creeping sense of calm that passed through them. Soon, the trees gave way to a clearing. A small farmhouse, more akin to a cabin than a true farmhouse really, sat snuggly between two groups of trees, surrounded by seasonal bushes. It seemed to be in a bit of a sorry state; the exterior wood had _definitely_ seen better days, and moss had even begun to grow on the roof. Ivy climbed on one side of the house, it’s vines like green fingers inching skywards. Crowley pulled up next to the cabin and turned off the ignition.

“Well.” Aziraphale said.

“Well.” Repeated Crowley.

“I'm positively parched. You?” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, tilting his head slightly at the demon.

“What kind of drink are we talking?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale with interest.

“Well I was thinking tea, but if you're offering...” Aziraphale uncurled his fingers from their fierce grip around the door handle.

“Better head in then, hadn't we?” Crowley flung his door open with unnecessary flair.

With the Bentley securely locked, they went inside, or at least tried to. Crowley yanked on the handle, jiggling the keys in the lock angrily, until Aziraphale unlocked it with a discreet cough and a raised eyebrow.

Three bottles of wine and approximately two hours later, Crowley had splayed himself across the sofa. Aziraphale chose to sit in the adjacent arm chair. Both pieces of furniture, much like their occupants, were a little worn out, but nonetheless comfortable and warm. Crowley was very close to falling asleep with his head against the bottle of red in his hands, and Aziraphale struggled to not find it irresponsibly endearing. Aziraphale placed his glass of wine on the small side table next to him. He sat forward in his seat for a moment, letting himself enjoy the heat from the rather humble fireplace. He forgot which of them had lit it. It was probably him; Lord knows he adores his creature comforts.

Aziraphale was relieved that they finally made it to the farm. If he had had to spend another 3 hours on top of the already painful 6-hour journey through the British countryside, then Aziraphale may have thrown himself from Crowley's infernal vehicle. It sometimes baffled Aziraphale that Crowley hadn't managed to crash the Bentley, but perhaps it shouldn't, given that they _were_ celestial beings. _Knowing Crowley, he probably pretended to drive just because he thought it looked cool_, thought Aziraphale. The truth of it was that Crowley did know how to drive – in fact he'd passed his test with flying colours, back in the forties after he figured that he may as well give it a go – the thing was that sometimes he just couldn't be bothered. To drive, you must concentrate, and signal, and you have to – or you would if your name wasn’t Anthony J Crowley – abide by traffic laws, and sometimes Crowley just could not be arsed. On occasion, Crowley would make an effort to actually drive, but this still didn’t stop Aziraphale’s panic over his driving.

After basking in the heat of the fire for a few moments, Aziraphale decided he should probably get Crowley into bed. Crowley’s grip on his bottle of wine had begun to slip; It was going to fall at any moment, leaving the slack grasp of Crowley's slim, pale fingers. Aziraphale jumped up and caught the bottle just before it hit the ground. He breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, he'd dodged waking Crowley, and had the demon awoken then Aziraphale would have had to deal with a very ruffled and very drunk demon. He wasn't sure that he could handle it at that moment.

Aziraphale placed the wine bottle next to his glass, and he scooped Crowley up in his arms. He gripped Crowley tightly – just for security, of course, not because he wanted to hold Crowley, no, not at all – and carefully picked his way through the scattered bottles. Aziraphale gripped Crowley a little tighter when he realised just how long and dark the hallway to the bedroom seemed; it loomed at him, taunting him. Aziraphale didn’t like it, not one bit. Crowley stirred in his arms, and after glancing down at the tangle of limbs in his arms, he stiffened his upper lip, he stood a little taller and promptly walked towards the bedroom. It was nowhere near as far as to the bedroom as he’d thought.

The bedroom was, well, rather small. One might call it cosy, what with its worn floorboards, moth-eaten curtains, and double bed; others might call it ‘a mess’ or ‘a travesty’ but Aziraphale preferred ‘antique’. The bed was pushed against the wall, and it was covered in a thin, simple duvet, and a pair of beaten pillows. Aziraphale scrunched his nose at the state of the bedding, and with a swift miracle, switched it out. In place of the rather sorry looking bedding lay a pair of soft, plump pillows, a thin but large duvet, and it was all clad in a tasteful grey tartan, naturally. After sorting that out, Aziraphale delicately placed Crowley between the covers. He snapped his fingers and Crowley was in his favourite silk pyjamas. A soft smile curled Aziraphale's lips as Crowley slapped an arm out across the bed, spreading himself out like a starfish. Moonlight streamed in through the window opposite Crowley, the beam landing on his sleeping face. Crowley's mouth was open, and a string of drool was starting to leak onto one of the pillows. Aziraphale sighed.

Aziraphale busied himself with bringing bits in from the car, switching on a couple of lights on the way. He tried to be as quiet as possible, as to not wake Crowley. He'd retrieved and unpacked the kitchen boxes, the bathroom boxes, and he'd brought in a few boxes of books. Crowley had argued that he didn't need to bring books with him, but Aziraphale just waved the demon off and shot a disapproving look.

The last box from the back of the miraculously large boot of the Bentley was particularly heavy. Aziraphale puffed his cheeks and struggled to raise the box above his knees. After a minute of trying to lift the box properly, he gave up and put it back in the boot. He didn't remember packing this box. What on earth could be in the box to make it so heavy? It couldn't be tools because they agreed to get them in town once they arrived at the farm.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Aziraphale. You shouldn't peek at a box you didn't pack." He mumbled to himself as his fingers twitched with the need to investigate. A mischievous glint hit his pale eyes. "But," Aziraphale's eyebrows rose as if to feign innocence, "satisfaction brought it back." He murmured as he reached to open the box.

The box was taped up thoroughly, so thoroughly that it seemed to be overdoing it, in Aziraphale's view. He stood, hunched over and struggling to find the end of the tape for a minute. He stuck his tongue out as he concentrated on this truly _monstrous_ task. Just as he found a corner, gripping it, a flashlight shone on him from behind, startling him. He froze, like a deer in the headlights.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley's voice was bogged down by sleep, rough and deeper than Aziraphale was used to. Uh oh. Aziraphale let out a tiny squeak of surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Uh," Aziraphale whipped his head around, cursing himself for a moment as he was blinded by the torch on Crowley's phone, "can- can you turn that away? I was just moving some boxes inside."

“Ah, yeah,” Crowley lowered the torch, “sorry.” He rubbed at his eye as he yawned. “D’you want some help?”

Aziraphale nodded his head. “It’s just this last one, it’s too heavy.”

Crowley passed his torch to Aziraphale and shuffled over to the car. In one fell swoop, the box was lifted into Crowley’s arms, and the pair retreated into the cabin. Once inside, Aziraphale forgot about the box. He busied himself with unpacking his boxes and cleaning up as quietly as he could, while Crowley threw himself onto the bed with a sigh, and promptly rolled over and fell to sleep.

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

The next week was full of fumbling around in Pelican Town; Aziraphale wanted to meet everyone and befriend them, but Crowley just wanted to go home and nap for a little bit longer. They’d managed to find everyone, and had even built a barn for some chickens, which Aziraphale had let Crowley name, like a fool; they were now the carers of ‘Cockriel,’ ‘Beelzenug,’ and ‘Chicken, the Destroyer of Worlds, Creator of Eggs, and Consumer of Seeds’. Aziraphale had been a mix of abject horror and mortification, whilst Crowley had laughed until he cried. As well as the chicken fiasco, they’d managed to completely unpack, and start raising their first crops. Now, naturally this was predominantly Crowley’s job. If a person were to wander out to Eden Farm in the wee hours of the morning, they’d probably find Crowley in his pyjamas, giving each crop a stern talking to. They may also notice a certain demon giving his crops an unimpressed spray with his bottle as he poked his tongue out to hiss at them. He was certain that they mocked him when his back was turned.

Aziraphale had taken it upon himself to fuss over the animals, seeing how the crops were in the firm, lovely – oh so lovely - hands of Crowley. He liked to greet the chickens with a _‘hello, how are we today?’ _and a gentle smile. Aziraphale liked to talk to Cockriel, Beelzenug and Chicken while he fed them each morning; he hoped that the chickens enjoyed their morning chats as much as he did. He was very proud of his band of chickens, even if they were given some of the most awful names that he wished he’d never heard.

There was an incident in the hen house within the first two weeks of living on Eden Farm.

On one sunny day, a Wednesday if we’re to be exact, Aziraphale wandered into their wooden chicken coop with a broom in hand, as per usual. He gave a cheery greeting as he got on with the usual routine. First, he gave each chicken a pat on their feathery heads, then cooed and talked to them for a while, letting them know just how _good_ they were, and how proud he was. After a good old chat, he got on with cleaning up any messes that the chickens had made and renewed their feed and bedding. As Aziraphale was getting ready to leave the hens to their business, he happened to spot something in the corner of his eye. It was something small and round and brown. It suddenly dawned on him.

“An egg!” Aziraphale declared with glee.

Aziraphale dropped his broom, accidentally scaring the chickens, and rushed over to Chicken’s now vacated nest. In the nest of straw, there lay a single egg. Aziraphale dropped to his knees in utter amazement. The first egg! It was their first egg! Aziraphale couldn’t believe it, they had an _egg_. He delicately picked it up, inspecting it for imperfections, but only ended up staring in awe at this perfectly shaped, and perfectly coloured egg. The egg was a light caramel colour and was artfully speckled with spots of darker brown. It was still a little warm from Chicken sitting on it.

“Oh my! Oh my, oh my, oh _my_! This is _wonderful_!” Aziraphale rushed to his feet.

The angel had a little bit of a wiggle, and a little bit of a shriek. The existence of this egg meant that they were doing something right, and Aziraphale could start thinking about all the things that he could make. He could also just sell the eggs, like most chicken farmers. Aziraphale paused in his tracks. All this giddy excitement, shrieking and wiggling was _very_ unprofessional of him. If Gabriel ever found out that he’d nearly screamed at the sight of an _egg, _well, he’d be in for a very long speech on professionalism and the proper conduct of angels. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. It would do no good to rush around acting like a child, no, he had to be calm and collected. Aziraphale straightened his jacket and moved to pick up his hastily discarded broom.

As Aziraphale leaned down to collect the broom, he slipped on some straw and went crashing into the floor face first. He flung out his hands to try and catch himself, and that was when the very first egg – the egg of perfection – went splat on the floor. Aziraphale lay on the floor for a moment, just frozen in shock. What had he done? He couldn’t bring himself to look at the mess.

“Oh no.” He whispered. “Oh dear.”

He felt like a fool. He’d just found the first egg, one that he’d started making glorious plans for, and crushed it, all within a time span of about five minutes. He slowly lifted his head to peer at what he’d done.

“Oh.” Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line as tears began to prick at his eyes.

He sat on his knees and reached a shaky hand out to the slimy mess of yolk and egg whites. The egg oozed through his fingers as he tried in vain to scoop it up. Now, one may wonder, ‘why not just miracle it back together?’ This is a very valid question, and the answer is that Aziraphale wanted to try and look after and raise their animals ‘the human way’. Aziraphale also would say that it would taint the taste of the egg, and he was not going to even entertain the idea if it ruined the taste of his food.

Suddenly, the doors creaked open.

“Oi, Aziraphale, everything okay?” Crowley called out. He looked around, his eyes finally landing on Aziraphale pathetically trying to scoop up the smashed egg. “What are you doing?” 

Aziraphale’s hands were a mess of egg shell and goo. “I…” He looked up to Crowley. A fat tear fell, trickling down his chubby cheeks. “Egg...” he forced out through the lump in his throat.

Crowley rolled his eyes and shook his head at Aziraphale. “You’ve gotten yourself into a right, _er_, pickle, haven’t you?”

Aziraphale mumbled about ruining Chicken’s hard work, still trying to scoop up the egg. Crowley got on one knee next to Aziraphale, reaching out a hand and wiping away the tears from Aziraphale’s cheeks. He hadn’t expected to come into a scene like this. One hand wave later and Crowley had miracled away the eggy mess.

“It’s alright, they’ll just make more.” Crowley patted Aziraphale’s arm at an attempt to comfort the distraught angel.

“But it was the first one.” Aziraphale’s bottom lip quivered.

“It’s okay.” Crowley rubbed Aziraphale’s back. “It was an accident. There’ll be plenty more eggs.”

Crowley wrapped Aziraphale in a one-armed hug, and soothingly rubbed his arm until the little hiccups and the tears had come to a stop. Aziraphale took a deep breath and glanced up at Crowley with a shy smile. The soft smirk Aziraphale got in return sent his heart hammering in his chest, like a toddler with a brand-new drum set; loud, fast, and always timed at an inopportune moment.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Crowley tilted his head.

“Yeah.” Aziraphale nodded. “Have you finished watering the crops?”

“Yup.” Crowley said as they both stood. “All done.”

Aziraphale hummed. As soon as Crowley’s arm was gone from his shoulder, Aziraphale missed it. He shouldn’t be having these fond feelings about a demon, especially not _Crowley_, of all people. He couldn’t help it though, the warm feelings that spread in his chest, they just happened without Aziraphale wanting them to. Yes, Crowley got on his nerves a fair amount, and yes, they bickered like children, but that just made Aziraphale appreciate Crowley even more when they made up. He hadn’t ever expected Crowley to be so _nice_, it kind of goes against everything that a demon is meant to be. Aziraphale liked it, though, because it was Crowley’s thing, and he admired Crowley for being able to do what Aziraphale could not; Crowley could stand up for himself, and he stood up for his beliefs, first and foremost. A part of Aziraphale was jealous about that.

Aziraphale shook himself out of his little daydream and followed Crowley out of the door. They headed back to the house. Crowley kept checking up every now and again that Aziraphale was still okay. They then ventured to the beach. They relaxed on the dock, each with a fishing pole in hand, both sitting with a sense of comfort deep in their guts. Occasionally one of them would pull up a fish triumphantly. Crowley would make a big show of reeling the fish in, tugging at the line and pulling faces to make Aziraphale laugh as he imitated pulling a big fish in– or he was imitating, until he found himself genuinely struggling to reel the line in. He huffed and puffed and rested one foot on one of the dock’s wooden poles, his tongue sticking out in concentration. All the while Aziraphale laughed and laughed. Crowley glanced over to Aziraphale’s face for a moment, just for a second, and the line snapped. He fell backwards, ending up in a tangle of limbs. Aziraphale burst into raucous laughter, casting his fishing pole aside and clutching at his stomach as it began to ache. Crowley peeked over his mass of limbs, his glasses askew, revealing his wide yellow eyes, blinking in surprise. Aziraphale hid his chuckle behind his fist as Crowley straightened himself out.

They calmed themselves enough to watch the sun set over the sea and then made their way home again. They both clambered into bed and wished each other goodnight. Crowley was asleep within ten minutes, but Aziraphale stayed up, and just watched his companion snooze. He felt his heart beat quicker when Crowley shuffled closer to Aziraphale and mumbled in his sleep. Aziraphale tentatively reached over to brush hair from Crowley's face. Crowley leaned into Aziraphale's hand, and that simple, unconscious action kept Aziraphale awake, frightened of moving and waking Crowley, so he stayed like that until Crowley rolled away again. He tried to ignore the pang in his chest when the distance between them grew, but it was difficult. 

What was an angel to do?


	2. The Community Center

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley meet Lewis at the community center. They also get a mysterious letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you've played SV you know the bit. Also apologies that this is mostly waffle and naff eeee - ah well.)
> 
> I don't know when the next bit will be - hopefully it'll have the event I've been dying to get to - because University is coming up, and I'm dying inside.
> 
> Enjoy? !

It took a while for Crowley and Aziraphale to notice that there was something a little off about Pelican Town. Aziraphale seemed to not notice, but Crowley had begun to get suspicious after they were approached by Mayor Lewis, the day after the egg incident.

The Mayor of Pelican Town was a fairly short gentleman with a silver Hungarian mustache above his lip. From a distance, one may mistake the Mayor for a normal citizen, what with his brown suspenders, brown flat cap, and relaxed attitude. The Mayor chose to wear a bright, slightly stained yellow tie, which seemed to speak volumes to the pair. When Aziraphale and Crowley came to stand beside the Mayor, they noticed the heavy bags under his eyes. The Mayor’s hair was a mess, and he gave off an air of exhaustion. He stood still for a moment, looking at the clearly abandoned building that was before them; it was in shambles. Ivy had grown all over, consuming the building, as if to stake its claim. Holes were dotted throughout the roof and walls, like polka dots, and plants and moss had sprung up through some of the gaps. What appeared to be some kind of green sludge had also been dripping from the roof above the clock, which obviously hadn’t been working for years. The two window boxes that had been placed in front of the building were also looking neglected; the plants’ leaves were tinted a sickly brown, and the boxes themselves were falling apart, dirt spilling out like water from a dam. The stone path leading to the front door was the only bit that didn’t seem to be a disgrace, it just needed a couple of stones replacing.

“What an eyesore…” Mayor Lewis sighed.

He turned to look at Aziraphale and Crowley. Crowley nodded a little too quickly for Aziraphale’s liking, earning him a jab in the ribs. Crowley grunted and squinted at Aziraphale, who pointedly looked to Lewis and then squinted at Crowley back. Aziraphale turned back to Lewis.

“Ah, yes, it does look in need of a little,” Aziraphale gestured with his hands as he spoke, “sprucing up.”

“And then some.” Crowley commented, earning another jab. “Ow.”

“Yes.” Lewis nodded. “You’re right, Crowley, unfortunately. This,” Lewis gestured to the building, “is the Pelican Town community center. Or what’s left of it anyway…” He looked down again.

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.” Aziraphale murmured, his eyebrows knitting together in empathy. This was obviously something that the Mayor cared about.

“It used to be the pride and joy of the town.” Lewis nodded to himself. “Always bustling with activity.” He hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “Now, just look at it. It’s shameful.” He sighed again. “Nowadays, the young folk would rather sit in front of the TV than engage with the community.”

Crowley nodded. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and was gently swaying from side to side, looking around at nothing in particular. ‘I wonder what Aziraphale’s having for dinner later.’ And ‘oh, I didn’t know there were bushes here, I wonder if they produce berries. Then we could make our own wine. Mmm, wine.’ Crowley thought to himself. He glanced up at Aziraphale. He wasn’t looking, he was safe, this time.

Aziraphale nodded along to Lewis’ words. It was so sad that the center had come to be in such a state. He knew that he wanted to do something, but the Mayor seemed to be set on continuing to ramble at them both for a little longer.

Lewis licked his lips and began to speak again. “Ah, listen to me,” he tried to jest, “sounding like an old fool.”

“You’re not an old fool, dear fe-“ Aziraphale tried to speak but was cut off by Lewis, who was clearly in his own head.

“Joja Corporation has been hounding me to sell them the land so they can turn it into a warehouse.” Lewis stepped towards the center; rough stones crunched under his black loafers. “Pelican Town sure could use the money, but there’s something stopping me from selling it.” Crowley yawned. “I guess old-timers like me get attached to relics of the past.”

“Like someone else I know.” Crowley muttered.

“And how do you explain the statues in your flat in Soho?” Aziraphale murmured back, fluffing his metaphorical feathers.

“That’s statues, not old books. You seem to hoard everything; books, mugs, knick-knacks. Don't think I haven't noticed your stash of novelty wine stoppers.” Crowley countered.

“They’re books, Crowley, not bloody floors. And I'm not a hoarder. I do dust, I'm not that bad.”

Crowley coughed into his fist. “Your dusty books will give someone asthma.”

“Oh, don’t be so childish.” Aziraphale puffed out his cheeks indignantly. Crowley imitated Aziraphale, mouth waving about like a gaping fish. Aziraphale scowled.

Lewis either hadn’t noticed or chose to ignore the bickering between Crowley and Aziraphale. 

“If anyone else buys a Joja Co. Membership I’m just going to go ahead and sell it.” Lewis sighed again, waving the pair to follow him. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

As soon as Lewis’ back was turned, Aziraphale spun to face Crowley. He pointed a finger at Crowley, as Crowley folded his arms over his chest. Crowley turned his face away.

“I’m not being childish.” Crowley insisted, his chin raised. “You’re the unreasonable one here.”

Aziraphale balked, his mouth popping open in amazement. “Me? I’m being the unreasonable one? You started this!” Aziraphale jabbed his finger in Crowley’s general direction.

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not!” It was Crowley’s turn to puff out his cheeks.

“Oh, just,” Aziraphale threw his hands in the air, “go inside, for Christ’s sake.”

“Ah!” Crowley cringed, unfolding his arms in favour of waving Aziraphale off. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Mhm.” Aziraphale gained a smug smirk. “Now go.”

They followed Lewis’ lead, into the community center. The inside was just as bad, if not worse than the outside. The wooden floor gave way in places to plants and dirt, and pipes peeked through the missing planks of wood in the walls. They were currently in the main room. There was a chimney with a board above it that had little hooks for who knows what, and a single log sat in the fireplace looking sorry for itself. Almost every window in the center seemed to be blacked out with boards. There were only two other things of note in this room; a smashed fish tank, still containing sand, even though the water was long gone; and a little leafy hut. The hut was too small for a child, but too large for a dog or a cat. The opening to the hut was long and fairly thin. There were also a few random bits and bobs like pencils and paper scattered around the floor, left from whatever children had been in there last.

“Hm?” Lewis looked around, his eyes falling on the curious hut. “I guess Vincent and Jas must’ve been playing in here.” His voice filled the empty room, seeping into the ageing walls and splintering floor. “This place is even more dilapidated than I remember.”

Out of the corner of Crowley’s eye, something popped into existence. It quite literally popped, the air seeming to explode like popcorn as the thing appeared. It was small, and round, and very green. It stood beside the fireplace, bobbing in place. Crowley tugged on Aziraphale’s coat.

“Uhh, what the he- heck is that?” Crowley pointed at the little creature, who waved at them cheerfully. It kind of looked a little bit like an apple.

Lewis turned in the direction of Crowley’s finger. “What?” The thing popped back out of existence. ”What’s the matter? Are you ill?”

“No, no.” Crowley flapped his hand at the place the little creature had stood. “There was a, uh, uh, thing there. You know a,” he gritted his teeth briefly as he tried to think of what to call it, “like a little green apple. It was right there.” Of course it was an apple; the symbolism wasn't lost on Crowley.

“You saw something?” Lewis said. Crowley rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this place was full of rats.”

“Yeah, are you sure it wasn’t just a large rat, Crowley?” Aziraphale looked at him, puzzled.

The sound of popcorn bursting to life happened again, and Crowley spun to look behind himself. There the little shit was, bouncing up and down merrily. Aziraphale and Lewis just stared at Crowley, who was desperately pointing at the creature. It looked so smug.

“It’s right there!” Crowley nodded at the creature.

Just as Lewis and Aziraphale turned to look at where Crowley was so desperately pointing, there was another pop and the thing was gone again. Crowley gritted his teeth.

“You’re worrying me, Crowley.” Lewis frowned.

“I’m sure it’s just tiredness, Mayor Lewis.” Aziraphale nodded, trying to reassure the Mayor and himself. It was likely a prank, he thought, not a very good one.

“Look,” Lewis headed for the door, “I’m going to go home. I need some lunch.” He patted his stomach. “Hey. I’ll keep this place unlocked from now on.” Lewis tugged on his flat cap to bid the pair farewell. “Maybe you can catch that rat if you have the extra time.”

The door creaked shut behind Lewis, and as soon as it did Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by his jacket – delicately of course.

“What was that?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at Crowley. “Was that a practical joke? Because it wasn’t a very funny one.”

“What? No. I actually saw a thing there. It was round and green like an apple. It kept waving at me and looking all satisfied with itself.” Crowley tried to convince Aziraphale, but it didn’t seem to be working, judging from the unimpressed look he was being given.

“Well, whatever it was, it scared the Mayor away.” Aziraphale released his hold on Crowley. Crowley brushed his jacket off.

“Thankfully.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“What?”

The heaviest, most disappointed sigh known to man came from Aziraphale. He had half a mind to push Crowley out of the center and make him apologise for his strange behaviour. After all, how were they supposed to appear as just normal humans with Crowley having outbursts like that? Hopefully Lewis would just chalk it up to a bad attempt at a joke.

Crowley started to wander off, further into the center to have a look around. Aziraphale called out to him, but Crowley just vaguely waved his hand at him. Aziraphale couldn’t leave him alone, especially in a place as unstable as this one. He trotted behind Crowley - also known as the man composed of 99% leg and 1% terrible decision-making - warily watching every step that Mr Legs took, and no it wasn’t an excuse to walk behind and admire Crowley, that’s absurd.

“What’s this one?”

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped up - away from definitely not checking out Crowley’s ass – as Crowley wandered into a smaller room; one decorated – decorated being used very loosely – with a worn purple carpet and peeling sky-blue wallpaper. Random logs were in a pile in the corner, and one wobbly bookcase stood to the side, like an introvert at a house party.

“Look! There’s another one!” Crowley pointed to the back of the room.

It was a little darker, so Aziraphale had to wait while his eyes adjusted, but right where Crowley’s finger pointed stood a round green thing. It was, indeed, shaped like an apple and it had a tiny stalk out of the top of its head, just like an apple, but it was larger – similar in size to a football. The creature kept bobbing up and down in place, pointing to the scroll laid out before it.

“You didn’t say it had a face and limbs.” Aziraphale clapped his hands together. “Well, it’s one of God’s creatures nonetheless.” He approached the bobbing apple-thing. Crowley crossed his arms and watched Aziraphale get to work. “What have we here?”

Crouching, Aziraphale could get a better look. The scroll was covered in symbols and lettering that he knew neither of them could read. This was definitely curious. Perhaps it was the creature’s attempt at communicating; trying to imitate humans?

“Don’t you think this is all a little bit, well, odd?” Crowley frowned at the creature, that continued bobbing up and down in place.

“What do you mean, my dear?”

“Well,” Crowley leaned forwards, nodding his head, “we’ve been on earth for over six thousand years, and I’ve never bloody seen one of these.”  
“There’s a lot that we haven’t seen though; take roughly 75% of history, or Zimbabwe. Have we been to Zimbabwe?” Aziraphale pointed out, as he picked up the scroll; when he did so, the tiny creature vanished. “Oh! It’s gone.”

“See! Normal animals can’t just do that! We’d be able to see that it ran away, or something. Normal animals can’t physically blip in and out of existence like that.”  
“Maybe it’s something that they’ve started to do. You know how far these animals have come,” Aziraphale gently rolled the scroll up and put it in his pocket, “what with them evolving and whatnot. Who’s to say that some animals aren’t capable of running away that fast?”

“It didn’t run away.” Crowley hissed, standing behind Aziraphale as he stood. “It just ceased to exist there, that’s not running away.”

“What are you trying to suggest, Crowley? That we came to some kind of magical town, where things can pop in and out, and-“ Aziraphale turned to Crowley.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Crowley flared his nostrils. “Just admit that this is all a little bit weird.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Well I suppose it is a little bit,” he bit his lip, “odd.”

“Yes!”

“But it doesn’t mean that there’s not a completely reasonable explanation!” 

As much as Aziraphale had tried, he couldn’t come up with any explanation that would satisfy Crowley. Aziraphale had thrown a few ideas around as they explored the remaining four rooms of the community center.

“It could be some kind of new breed!”

“Of what, exactly?” Crowley raised an eyebrow as he rummaged through the kitchen’s empty cupboards.

“A dog,” Aziraphale then muttered, “I suppose.”

“It wasn’t a dog, angel. What kind of dog looks like that?”

“Maybe not a dog, but maybe some kind of fat rat? Mayor Lewis had said that they had a rat issue in here.”

“Oh, of course, it was a rat. One without any ears or a tail, or whiskers, or rat-like feet.” Crowley scoffed.

“I’m not going to please you, am I?”

“Not by throwing around dumb ideas like those, no.” Crowley strode past Aziraphale and headed for the room with the vault.

Aziraphale sighed. He would stay quiet, for now.

After thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny in the community center, they both finally went home. The sky had gotten dark since they first entered the center, and it was getting so dark that they could barely see their own feet. Crowley held onto Aziraphale’s arm, to steady the poor, fumbling angel. They were almost home, when Aziraphale tripped on an unseen rock, and went crashing down to the floor. Crowley dropped into a crouch and helped Aziraphale sit up.

“You okay?” Crowley snapped his fingers and a light hovered above them. No one knows why they hadn’t thought of using their respective talents before.

Aziraphale huffed and timidly brushed some of the dirt from his clothes. “I-I believe so, yes. I am unharmed.”

Crowley couldn’t help himself, seeing as Aziraphale was fine. “Did you get me a souvenir?”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale tilted his head quizzically.

“Did you get me a souvenir.” Crowley repeated. He paused. “From your trip.”

“Oh- you. You're a nuisance, you know?” Aziraphale bit his tongue at the retort he wanted to voice. Crowley, on the other hand, burst into laughter.

“Come on, angel, that was funny!” Crowley offered his hand to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale gave Crowley a dubious look. “Mm.” They both rose to their feet. “If you insist.” There was a little curl to his lips at the enthusiastic nod that Crowley gave him.

The (short) walk home after Aziraphale’s impromptu trip was uneventful. The pair threw open the front door to their home and took off their coats. Crowley kicked off his shoes and ran to the bedroom. His clothes leaped from his body with a mind of their own as he, quite literally, jumped into his pajamas, and then flung himself face first onto the bed. Aziraphale, naturally, took the slower but more elegant route; he toed off his shoes, placing them neatly by the door, and carefully stripped himself before redressing in his own pajamas, delicately sliding between the bed sheets. Both Aziraphale and Crowley were softly snoring before half an hour had gone by; it turns out that bickering really drained the life out of them sometimes.

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

The next day, Crowley noticed that there was something shoved into their post-box. His eyebrow quirked up in interest. They’d had a few letters, but this one was written on very rough paper. When Crowley opened the letter up, he found that the inside was smeared with bits of dirt and who knows what else. He scanned the letter.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called.

Aziraphale’s head popped out of the coop. “A-huh?” His hair was a mess, he had straw stuck to his cheek as well as in his hair. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley said a little louder, not having noticed the ruffled angel.

"I heard you the first time." 

"Who's M. Rasmodius?"

"No clue whatsoever, my dear." Aziraphale's head disappeared back into the coop.

"Just that, it appears we've been summoned." Crowley said to Aziraphale's now missing form.

There was a distant hum from inside the chicken coop, followed by a bang and a grunt. Crowley rolled his eyes, the angel would come out in three, two, one...

"Summoned?" Aziraphale's head appeared again. "As in by...?" 

"I don't think so, but we can't rule it out." 

"Mmmm, would appear so." His head disappeared before all of him made an appearance. "We'll go have a look in a moment, I just need to put my things away. Where is it that we've been so kindly invited to?" 

"The big wizard tower." 

"It's not a wizard's tower, it's an old fashioned castle spire." Aziraphale trotted back out of the house. "I don't understand why you're so suspicious of this very sweet, very normal valley." 

"And I can't understand how you're not so suspicious of this valley. Take those things we saw in the center!" 

"We're not going back into that again." Aziraphale flashed his palms at Crowley. He was damn sure about not opening that can of worms again. 

"I don't get how you're so blind!" Crowley threw his hands up. "It's all so obvious, and d-"

"It was just a one time thing, what else-"

"-on't say it was a one time thing. There's been a bunch of stuff that's clearly not normal." Crowley insisted. Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line and huffed through his nostrils. "Just trust me on this one."

Aziraphale's tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Oh, Crowley, I do trust you. But let's just-"

"Leave it?" Crowley finished. 

"For now. We shouldn't keep this - what was it again?"

"Rasmodius."

"Right! We shouldn't keep Mr. Rasmodius waiting." 

Crowley shoved his hands in his jeans. He was lucky that he wore sunglasses, or else Aziraphale would have seen the heavy roll of his eyes; Aziraphale probably knew about it anyway. 

They headed towards the Cindersap Forest. It was a bit of a trek to get there from their forest farm, but the walk gave the both of them a chance to just enjoy the views. The pair wandered through the trees, listening to the songs of the birds, and feeling the gentle breeze float past them. They eventually came to a lake, well perhaps that was a little generous, it was more like a very large pond. An old, worn-out pier sat in the pond, and Aziraphale commented how it would be a lovely place to sit and have a picnic. Crowley made a mental note. The stone tower that was described in the letter - 'there's a stone tower' - sat nearby, on its own little hill. The tower was made with misshapen grey stones, and wonky arched windows - blacked out of course, for mysterious effect - and its roof was made in a similarly wonky fashion. They both approached the - Aziraphale would say 'rustic', and Crowley would say 'in dire need of replacement' - front door.

"Are we going to stand here all day, or are you going to knock?" Crowley wiggled in place.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at Crowley, and then rapped his knuckles on the door three times. The door creaked open.

"Of course." Crowley muttered and moved his pelvis forwards, his hands flexing in his pockets as he tried to gesture. Aziraphale tried to ignore him.

The first thing that happened was that they were hit with the smell of pine needles and old shoes. Crowley scrunched his nose up in disgust, but Aziraphale tried to bear with it. As their eyes adjusted, they noticed that there was a large cauldron, bubbling and broiling, with thick plumes of green smoke rising from it. The next thing that they noticed was the square of stone floor that had a symbol drawn onto it, blood red candles decorating the outermost edges of one of the circles, and open books scattered on the floor. Aziraphale gasped in horror; the pages were crumpled. Crowley saw this, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. There was also a stone fireplace, which currently had a log happily crackling away, and an empty pedestal sat in the corner of the room. How strange. The last thing that the pair noticed was the stooped, purple-bearded man who'd been stood by the stone floor in silence, just watching them. Aziraphale's eyes widened at the sight of the man. He wore a long black robe that was lined with pure gold, and he had shaggy amethyst hair. He had a fat, purple caterpillar of a mustache above his lip, and a large nose. His eyebrows seemed to be pulled into a permanent scowl, causing the appearance of lines near his eyes. The weirdest thing about the man was the black cowboy hat that he wore. 

Crowley cleared his throat. The man finally spoke. 

"Ah, come in," the man's voice was much like the rest of his appearance, deep, dark, and mysterious.

"Already have." Crowley muttered.

"Don't." Aziraphale bumped Crowley's shoe with his own. 

The man strode closer, the length of his robes and the elegance of his steps giving him the appearance of floating.

"I am Rasmodius, Seeker of the arcane truths."

"Lovely to meet you, Rasmodius." Aziraphale stuck his hand out for Rasmodius to shake. Rasmodius ignored it.

"Mediary between physical and ethereal." Rasmodius clasped his hands in front of himself. Crowley opened his mouth to make another comment, but Aziraphale shot him another look, one that just radiated disappointment. Crowley's mouth slammed shut. "Master of the seven elementals. Keeper of the sacred cha-" Rasmodius groaned and shook his head, "oh, you get the point. You can also call me the Wizard." 

"Oh, he's a wizard." Crowley tried to whisper to Aziraphale victoriously, but it came out as more of a strained statement. 

"And you two, are Crowley and Aziraphale, beings whose coming I have long foreseen. Here," Rasmodius gestured to the symbol on the floor, "I'd like to show you something. Behold!"

There was a loud bang as everything went a bright, brilliant white. The smell of sulphur and burnt wood permeated the air. When Aziraphale and Crowley finally opened their eyes, they saw another one of the little apple creatures from earlier, but the only difference was that this one was a slightly different shade of green. The little thing kept bouncing in place, with its little stick arms raised in the air triumphantly to announce its presence.

"It's the things from before!" Crowley looked to Aziraphale, but he wasn't much help either as he blankly stared at the apple thing. 

Light pulsed around the creature. It seemed to shimmer and shake in and out of existence. The wizard adjusted his robes.

"You've seen one before haven't you?"

"Yeah, I've seen it about three or four times. This is his second time seeing one." Crowley jabbed his thumb in Aziraphale's direction. The Wizard hummed.

"They call themselves the 'Junimos'..." The Wizard moved closer to the Junimo. "Mysterious spirits, these ones. For some reason, they refuse to speak to me."   
Rasmodius raised his fist and closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. There was another pop, a flash of light, and the Junimo had disappeared again.

"There's more of the little fuckers?" Crowley's eyebrows drew together in a small grimace. 

"I'm not sure why they've moved into the community center, but you don't need to fear them." 

"I didn't really anyway." Crowley nodded.

"Ignore him," Aziraphale reached into his pocket. "We found this scroll in one of the community center rooms. Do you have any idea what it is, or what it says?"   
"This golden scroll, written in an unknown language." 

"Don't." Aziraphale said just as Crowley opened his mouth. Crowley turned his head and pulled a face. 

"Most interesting." The Wizard mused. "Wait here a moment, I'm going to go check for myself. I'll be right back." 

The Wizard raised his arm again and muttered under his breath. The Wizard went up in a cloud of smoke, leaving behind an intense smell of damp, fire, and wet socks; the man seriously needed to do something about that. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other. It was safe to say that neither of them had expected any of this when they'd chosen to live in Stardew Valley. 

"Believe me now?" Crowley crossed his arms over his chest. 

"I'll admit that there's more to your theory." Aziraphale wasn't going to give in to Crowley that easily. Crowley balked. 

The door behind them slammed open and in strolled the Wizard.

"I found the note. The language is obscure, but I was able to decipher it." He strode over to stand beside his cauldron. "It's a note from the Junimos, asking for you to bring them specific items in return for their aid." 

"What aid could a bunch of tiny fruits provide?" 

"Many hands make light work." Aziraphale chirped.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" 

"They also say that you must be one with the forest to read their scrolls." Rasmodius moved closer to his cauldron.

"There's more scrolls? And how are we meant to give it to them when they blip in and out like an unstable internet connection? Come to think of it, do you even know what the internet is?" Crowley tilted his head at the Wizard. 

Aziraphale held a hand up to his mouth to cover the smile that was threatening to break out on his face. The Wizard just shook his head.

"'One with the forest', what could that mean?" The Wizard was still for a moment as he thought. Suddenly, he clapped his hands together. "Aha!" He pointed at his cauldron, his eyes bright with excitement. "Come here, come here." 

Aziraphale moved closer. Crowley threw his hands out to his sides - a non-verbal 'what the fuck bro' - but followed suit. If Aziraphale was going to be discorporated by sniffing some old man's spicy nature tea, then he'd have to be around for clean up, but only in the form of causing a temporary bout of amnesia for Rasmodius, should the need arise. 

"My cauldron is bubbling with ingredients from the forest. Baby fern, moss grub, caramel-top toadstool, can you smell it?" 

"A little too well, if you ask me." Crowley murmured under his breath. 

"Ah, yes, that." Aziraphale gingerly pointed to the green smoke. "Is that normal?" 

"Oh, yes, yes. Now drink up. Let the essence of the forest permeate your body." The Wizard gestured to his cauldron. A cup appeared in his hand out of nowhere.   
"You can't be serious." Crowley looked between the Wizard and Aziraphale. "He can't be serious. We don't know what's in there." 

"I'm going to second my companion here, for once," Aziraphale twiddled his thumbs, "I'm not sure if we should drink that." 

"It's mainly a mix of mushrooms and perfectly edible plants." The Wizard nodded. When neither Aziraphale or Crowley made a move to drink from the cauldron, the Wizard sighed. "It just makes you able to read their language. Please just drink this and leave my home." 

"Fine." Crowley shook his head. "But if I'm discorporated, I'm going to," Crowley threw shook his head and gestured vaguely, "I'll hide your books." He couldn't even try threatening to burn one, that would be a step too far. 

Aziraphale gasped and his lip started to quiver. Crowley refused to look at him, or else he would have to pause and find a way to apologise, but demonically. He took the cup from the Wizard and scooped some of the smoking green liquid from the cauldron. The liquid continued to bubble and smoke in his cup. Well, there wasn't any going back now. He raised the cup to his lips and chugged it. His senses were overwhelmed with the taste and scent of dirt and rain, and he was surrounded by a green cloud. A warmth spread through his chest, and he coughed up green smoke. When the cloud cleared, he found Aziraphale peering at him worriedly. When Crowley didn't appear to be going anywhere, Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. 

"My books are safe." Aziraphale had a hand against his chest. 

"I shouldn't have expected any other reaction." That earned a sheepish smile from Aziraphale.

Aziraphale took the cup from Crowley and followed suit. The very same thing happened to Aziraphale as it did to Crowley. Aziraphale grimaced at the taste and pouted. 

"It's not gourmet soup, angel." Crowley chortled. 

"Now that that's over." The Wizard nodded to them both. "Leave." 

Before either of them could say a thing, the Wizard had raised his arm and muttered under his breath once more. They were promptly lifted a few centimeters off of the floor, and were hovered out of the Wizard's tower. The door slammed shut behind them. Huffing and banging pots could be heard from behind the firmly shut door. 

"Wow." Crowley raised an eyebrow. "What a twat." 

Aziraphale tried to think of something good to say. "Well, he helped us. I'm not sure why..." 

"I expected for you to reprimand me." Crowley shrugged. "I'm not complaining, though." 

"Of course not." Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"I guess we just continue as normal now?" Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets. 

"I suppose so." 

Crowley shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "Lunch?" 

Aziraphale nodded. "Lunch would be marvelous." 

"Get the taste of that dishcloth soup out of our mouths, hm?" 

"Please." Aziraphale nodded eagerly, his hands clasping together. 

"Then follow me, angel." Crowley smirked, leading the way into town. 

"I hope Gus is still serving that lovely roast that he did last week." Aziraphale chirped, hopping to catch up with Crowley's long strides.


End file.
